Pictures of You
by Rynn Abhorsen
Summary: A few days after the events of "Self-Posessed" Rogue looks back and contemplates on the woman and the lie that was Risty, her one and only kindred spirit. ONE-SHOT


**A/N:** Well, I'm back again. This is a short, introspective piece from Rogue's point of view, taking place directly after _Self Possessed_. I do hope you enjoy it.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters involved (they are the sole property of Marvel Comics and, more specifically, Stan Lee). I do not own the lyrics to the song "Pictures of You" by The Cure, off of their album Disintegration.

**A/N 2.0: **As I'm sure you'll notice, I didn't use the entirety of the song by The Cure. This is because, while the song did inspire me, it's lyrics, though hauntingly beautiful, are not applicable to the whole work. Now enough of my blathering, please enjoy  
the story.

* * *

Pictures of You

My picture album's sitting on the bedside table.

_I've __been__ looking__ so __long__ at __these __pictures__ of __you__,  
__That__ I __almost__ believe__ that __they__'re __real_

There are too many pictures.

_I've __been __living__ so __long __with__ my __pictures__ of __you__,  
__That__ I __almost__ believe__ that __the __pictures __are__,  
__All__ I __can __feel__.  
_

I've had this picture album for a while, and in it you can see the changes. From human to mutant, baby to teen, normal to freak, friendly to friendless.

You _were_ my friend, Risty.

The word, the simple declaration that is your name, tastes like acid on my tongue. You were, in your very being, a lie.

But I'm choosing to ignore that.

On the current page of my photo album, there's a picture of me when I arrived at the institute. You can see the tear tracks on my face, and the scrapes on my cheeks. I was so alone Risty, can you understand that?

The picture was one of the things the Professor required when we joined. A photo I.D., a filled out form, and a promise...

But I broke so many promises for you, Risty.

I used to have friends, back in Mississippi. For a while, during the happier years, I had many people to be with, to love, and to love me. But with a mutation like the one I was given, friends have no place in the world that accompanies it. My mutation destroys the people I love, and through that I too, am destroyed.

The pages of the photo album turn, and I can't exactly remember how you managed to break past all the walls I'd learned to build up. I didn't have any friends, and I told myself I didn't need them. And I made a promise that I never would, just to keep people safe. I broke that promise for you. Risty, you were my friend.

Or was that just a lie too?

All the laughs, all the jokes, all the truths, all the secrets, all the hours spent with you, my one and only kindred spirit, were they all a lie?

I'm crying now, and I hate you for it. You were nothing, Risty, just some image made up to hurt me. And it _did_ hurt Risty, it did.

You, my friend, destroyed me.

They let me out of the Med Lab today, and for a while there is silence in my skull. The voices are all gone, taken away somewhere, just like you.

There were so many things in my skull Risty, so many voices. Jean, Scott, Logan, Kurt, Kitty, Storm…

But there never was a voice like yours, Risty.

It's because you're only a lie. There never was a girl named Risty, there never was a friend, there never was a brief period in the pages of my photo album where I was happy.

Everything was a lie.

Were all the smiles and hugs and jokes and everything all a part of your dreams? What have you gotten from this?

But you see; now I'm talking to the woman who did exist, the woman who is Mystique. I only want to talk to you Risty. The separate part of you, the part that maybe, just maybe, did exist beyond Mystique, that's who I'm talking to.

Because that's who I'm really angry at.

I turn the page, and I see your face staring up at me. You're smiling and I can see no hints of the evil that is inside you. But maybe you're just hiding it.

And we all know you're good at hiding.

You know what the worst part is Risty? You know which part hurts the deepest?

It's that I can't hate you for any of it.

_Looking__ so __long__ at __these__pictures__ of __you__  
__But__ I __never__hold__ on to __your__heart__  
_

I pull the picture from its plastic case, and I walk to the window. It opens quietly, with only the barest squeak. The picture rests silently in my palm, and I blink to shed my eyes of the tears. Only the barest wind flows against my skin; the poisonous exterior is tonight freed from its leather prison.

_Looking__ so __long __for__ the__ words__ to be __true__  
__But __always __just __breaking __apart__  
My __pictures__ of __you_

I'm crying again Risty, as my fingers clench once, crushing the photo.

And when I do this, I'm crushing you, because you really did exist in the picture.

You really did exist in my heart.

There was a short while, a brief snapshot amid all the bullshit and sadness I deal with, that you made me happy Risty.

Maybe that's why I can't bring myself to hate you.

My fingers open again, and the picture falls to the ground before being swept up by a strong gust of wind. It's carried away, far away, so very far away…

_There __was__ nothing__ in __the__ world,__  
__That__ I __ever__ wanted__ more...__  
_

Goodbye Risty…

Goodbye to my enemy…

_Than__ to __never __feel__ the __breaking __apart,__  
__All__ my __pictures__ of __you._

Goodbye to my friend…

Rest in Peace.

* * *

**A/N:** Did you enjoy it? I truly hope so. If you did, and deem it worthy of your time, a review whether as an ego booster or constructive criticism, would be much appreciated.

Thank you for reading,

Rynn Abhorsen


End file.
